Panic
by Anxious-Writer
Summary: Quinn suffers through an anxiety attack and is helped by Rachel. WARNING: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY DESCRIPTIONS OF ANXIETY/PANIC ATTACKS.


**A/N: WARNING: VERY VERY TRIGGERING SUBJECT MATTER. IF YOU ARE PRONE TO ANXIETY AND PANIC ATTACKS, DO NOT READ THIS.**

I've been feeling really out of sorts tonight and wrote this to help cope with my anxiety. It helped keep me from having a panic attack myself so for me, it was helpful. Let me know what you may think.

* * *

Thin, delicate fingers slid over the ridges of black keys. How could what she was feeling possibly be explained through words?

It all boiled down to a horrible moment when she realized that her presence wasn't valued. When she noted that once she stopped trying to make things happen with friends, they just _didn't happen_.

It didn't hit like a ton of bricks. It didn't feel like the world was crumbling beneath her feet.

It felt instead like someone had thrown a thick, black cloth over her, stifling her, suffocating the very air she tried to breathe.

Her stomach felt like invisible hands were wringing it dry.

Her heart felt like it was in her throat.

That horrible inner voice whispered those dangerous words.

_It wouldn't even matter if I were gone._

_I could just disappear and no one would notice. No one would care._

_I could slip away and not be missed._

Some small, warm part of her told her that it wasn't true.

But she felt those words to her core.

The very center of her being vibrated with the intoxicating notion of vanishing.

There were no tears.

There was no music.

Just a horrible silence that allowed her thoughts to echo in her head, bouncing against the walls of her skull.

_They wouldn't even care._

_They'd act like they did after you were gone._

_But no one even cares that you're here. Why the hell would they care when you're not?  
_

The silly saying of people not knowing what they have until it's gone felt like a bitter consolation.

Her mind continued to feed her more poison and she drank it like the parched, dry earth.

_No one would notice._

_No one would care._

_No one would care._

_No one._

_You have no one._

Shaking hands pulled away from the keyboard, tangling in matted blonde hair.

Her body rocked back and forth, her eyes wide open, searching without seeing.

Her gaze flickered back and forth between the medicine cabinet and the knife-block.

Slow and painless.

Quick and excruciating.

Slow and painless.

Quick and excruciating.

Everything around her went from being something docile to something dangerous.

Choking hazards. Poisons. Weapons.

Her skin crawled and her muscles ached as every single object around her seemed to grow fangs and a thirst to destroy her.

Clothing felt too tight, but nakedness too vulnerable.

She was freezing to the touch but boiling from the inside.

Her head spun.

Her heart pounded.

"Quinn?"

Rhythmic footsteps.

Hazel eyes darted around in a panic, as if trying to cover up a crime that was never committed.

"Baby? Where are you?"

Breaths came in gasps, stabbing the insides of her lungs, stinging her throat.

"Quinn?"

That's when the tears came. They pooled into her eyes until they overflowed, soaking the skin from her cheeks to her neck.

"Sweetheart are you okay?"

There was fear in those words. Apprehension.

_You scare her._

_You did this._

Gasping breaths turned to whimpers and her hands clutched her ears, trying to block out the ideas inside her own head.

"Quinn, I'm here."

Timid arms wrapped around her shoulders and suddenly everything felt too tight.

She struggled, legs kicking of their own accord, hands clawing at her own scalp.

Smooth hands locked on her own and thumbs rubbed over her pale skin.

"It's okay. I'm here. I love you."

_She's lying._

_She only loves what you do for her._

_You're an object._

_You're worth nothing._

Crushing blackness was all she could see.

"Quinn. Baby. Look at me."

Every word felt like an order. A command. It set off a broiling anger inside of her.

Hazel eyes flew open, locking on chocolate brown.

"That's good, baby. That's good. Breathe. Just like me. In."

The slow rasp of a breath felt like the roar of stormy winds as it cooled over the blonde's face.

"And out."

A warm, steady gust warmed her icy skin.

"In."

Her hands stopped clawing.

"And out."

Her fingers twitched to unlock themselves.

"In."

Muscles ached in protest as she fought against the hard clench.

"And out."

Fingertips slipped over fingertips, locking warm hands to her own.

"In."

A focus came into her eyes, stilling them from their wild panic.

"And out."

She let out a breath, matching the one she heard.

"I'm right here, Quinn."

_I know._

"I love you, Quinn. I care about you. You matter to me."

Pale lips trembled around their response, words jumbling up in her throat.

"I know, baby. Here. Drink some water."

A cool glass pressed to her lips and she shakily took the cold liquid in, sipping it slowly, feeling her stomach jump in protest.

"It's okay. You don't have to drink much. Just a little at a time."

Her jaw clenched shut.

"That's good, Quinn."

Warm hands cupped her cheek and she fell apart, tears streaming hotly down her cheeks.

"I-I l-love you, Rach-el."

"I know, baby. I love you too. Always."


End file.
